Something Old, Something New
by Little Red2
Summary: A Wilde Fan Fiction. What if Oscar met the Rentboy again? Caution: This story contains homosexuality so if you're not comfortable with that subject please do not read. It also implies, in places, sex taking place but it does not go into detail.
1. The Forbidden Fruit

Something Old, Something New: The Forbidden Fruit  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned in my story. They belong to themselves. However the story and story idea is all mine and comes from my little warped brain, please don't steal! (Not that you'd want to anyway.)  
  
'I can resist everything except temptation.' Lady Windermere's Fan (1892) act 1  
  
Another day had passed and another night was passing and again his talent had failed him. It had completely escaped him. It had done for everyday and night for the past few weeks. Oh, how he missed the way words used to come to him so easily. But, alas, like everything in the world it had come to an abrupt end. Well for the meantime, anyway. It would soon return though and when it did Oscar would embrace it lovingly, like a third child or new lover.  
  
Finally admitting defeat he retired from his study early and decided to retreat to his bedchamber, where Bosie would be waiting between the warm sheets of their bed. He would, of course, assure Oscar that everything would be fine soon, very soon in fact. That wasn't reality though, he knew Bosie wouldn't do that. That simply wouldn't be Bosie. Perhaps something similar would have happened when their relationship was fresh and new but now it was starting to stale, so Oscar could only imagine.  
  
Before he just ignored the fact that the novelty was wearing off but he couldn't any longer. This was primarily because Bosie never hesitated to remind him that it was. He repeatedly told him that it was losing its appeal. Therefore he often turned to a Rentboy for the solution. 'Variety is the spice of life' he had told Oscar once. Though more than often Bosie would express his feelings by losing his temper and storming out dramatically. Oscar would always oblige him by playing his part in their 'show'. It made it more interesting. He would return a few hours later, without fail, lust clouding his eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. Oscar obeyed, only wanted to see his Bosie happy or as happy as he would allow himself to be.  
  
The top stair creaked as he trod down on it. He smiled to himself. Some things would always stay the same. He swept a stubborn strand of hair from his eyes as he walked down the dimly lit hallway. It had been annoying him all day and had made him consider having a haircut. Not just a trim but something drastic. Something that would that would make passers by stare at him in a mixture of awe and shock. Yet he knew that fashions were quick to fall in and out. The last thing he wanted to be was behind with the fashion, he wanted to be ahead of it if anything, which he was already. So a trim it would be.  
  
Carefully he pushed open his chamber's door, which was already ajar, as not to wake Bosie. If he was asleep that was, chances are he wasn't He paused slightly at the sight of a toned body standing naked before the window. Smoking.  
  
"Bosie?" Oscar called out gently.  
  
The figure didn't even answer him or even turn to regard him. It was as if they hadn't heard or was refusing to listen to him. Quietly he closed the door and started to make his way over to the figure. He stopped halfway across the room, leaving a little space between them. To be safe.  
  
"Bosie?" he tried again.  
  
The figure turned. Though quite dark Oscar could clearly see it wasn't Bosie at all, but he seemed so familiar. He was having trouble placing it though. After seeing all those Rentboys they all started to look alike. Narrow minded as it might be it was true.  
  
"Looking for someone?" the stranger asked, his voice smooth and confident.  
  
Oscar froze. The stranger seemed to get pleasure from his fear as his mouth twisted into a cocky grin. The boy lifted his cigarette to his mouth, the grin never slipping from his lips, and took a long drag then stamped it out on the desk by the window. The priceless antique desk that had been a present to Oscar, from who he couldn't remember for the life of him. Nevertheless it was priceless. Yet for the first time in his life Oscar Wilde was too dumbfounded to even find the words to protest.  
  
"Found them then, Oscar?"  
  
Oscar found the manner in which he said it personal, perhaps too personal. It made the tiny hairs on his arms, which he'd never really taken much notice of before, stand on end.  
  
"Dear boy, please do enlighten me about who I am supposed to be looking for. For I am confused."  
  
Oscar had found his voice at last. Maybe he couldn't find the exact words he wanted but they would do for the present.  
  
"Everyone's looking for something, in your case it's someone as well," the Rentboy answered. His cool exterior never melting though under Oscars scrutinizing gaze.  
  
"Perhaps," he said. "But who's to say I've found them? Surely not you."  
  
"If you're the one whom someone is looking for then you should know."  
  
Oscar shifted his weight, unsure about where this would lead.  
  
"You seem to know me so very well Rent boy but I know not one thing about you. Will you do me the pleasure of giving me your name at least?"  
  
The Rentboy raised his eyebrows then pursed his lips in thought and went to sit on the double bed. Bosie and Oscars bed. He made himself comfortable, though not even thinking of covering himself up.  
  
"Charles West."  
  
"Charles?" Oscar mused. "I pictured you having more of an exotic name. Sebastian, I think. Quite a popular French name, if I'm not mistaken."  
  
"You consider France exotic?" He made it sound as if he hadn't quite heard him correctly.  
  
"My love, I consider anything outside of this dreary country exotic."  
  
Charles laughed, making him sound at least half the age Oscar thought he was. Weary of standing Oscar made his way over to his favorite chair, just by the bed. He sensed this conversation would be long. Though a mere Rentboy his quick wit and sharp tongue rivaled even Robbie's, at times.  
  
After a length of time Oscar spoke.  
  
"I am no fool, Charles."  
  
"Fool? And why would I think that?"  
  
Oscar bit his lower lip thoughtfully. He had to consider his words carefully.  
  
"Because you assume I will gladly make love to you, no questions asked," he paused working out what to say next. What would make the biggest impact on him. "Though the nights beauty pales compared to yours, I shall not be tempted. The story of Adam and Eve comes to mind about now. Though, I must admit, I loathe that Biblical story it holds some sense and reminds me of this situation. The part where the serpent, was it not?, tried to seduce dear Eve with a forbidden fruit."  
  
Charles looked up from idly inspecting his nails, his knowing grin plastered on his youthful face. The one Oscar had witnessed so many times before. He decided that he would have to bless him with a nickname as he had done for 'Sphinx'.  
  
"I'm not much of a religious person but I do know that Eve did bite the fruit. She had been tempted by it."  
  
"Indeed Master West you are not religious for if you were you would know that when she does bite the fruit the world is plagued by darkness and evil. I think you'll agree that it's not exactly a child's bed time story."  
  
Oscar had caught him out.  
  
"Bosie was right ' You certainly cannot outsmart Oscar Wilde.'"  
  
He slowly stood up from the bed and made his way over to Oscar. Cat like he sat on the older mans lap and began kissing his exposed neck. At first Oscar tensed unsure what to do. He felt like a school boy all over again, doing something he knew was wrong but felt so right at the time. Gradually he relaxed, giving in to Charles.  
  
"And so now I too, as Eve did, bite down hard into the forbidden fruit and let it slide down into the pit of my stomach."  
  
Charles smirked at that then slipped off his lap to the floor. When he became comfortable he began undressing him, his lips planting butterfly kisses on his body every so often.  
  
"The question now is: When will the darkness come?"  
  
Charles looked up his brown eyes sparkling with innocence, yet to Oscar there was something more sinister about them. Something that could not be seen by the human eye.  
  
"The darkness is already here, lover." He drawled. Then he began slowly pulling off Oscars trousers and undergarments, leaving Oscar with only an unbuttoned shirt on. "The question really is: when will it reach you?"  
  
As Charles lowered his head towards Oscars crotch the older man raked his fingers through the boys hair tenderly.  
  
"My dear boy, I think it already has..."  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N The Rentboy is one of the most used characters for Wilde fan fiction on fanfiction.net and I'm (stupidly?) adding to the total. Hopefully you, the readers, won't see me as an Orlando Bloom fan that lives for Mary Sue's. I chose the Rent boy as one of my main characters because I can play about with him a bit and give him a personality and a name etc. Most of the other characters have a past and future that can't be changed. Their stories are carved in stone, if you like! ^_^ Perhaps I'm going against my words by using Oscar in my story but I thought it would be fun to pair the couple up again. To me they had so much chemistry in the film, chemistry that was longing to be written about.  
  
Lastly I hope I have not offended any Oscar Wilde fan with writing this as I meant no harm by it. Believe it or not I have the utmost respect for him and his works. He is very clever with his words and I know I have not done him justice with the dialogue I have given him, but I tried. 


	2. The Musings of a Rentboy

Something Old, Something New: The Musings of a Rent boy  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Rent boy, he belongs to himself (Or the movie big- wigs, whatever takes your fancy). However, the two Lords are, I'm ashamed to say, from my imagination. I shall be nice and say that they belong to themselves (We all know that is not the truth though). Also the story and story idea is all mine and comes from my little warped brain, please don't steal! (Not that you'd want to anyway.)  
  
'The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what fiction means.' The Importance of Being Earnest (1895) act 2  
  
He stared out of the window at the street below longing to be out there and away from all 'this'. He regarded the room behind him, his eyes lingering on the double bed. Two sleeping forms lay sprawled out, one on top of the other. He smiled at the sight, his infamous cocky grin that earned him the nickname: 'Wolf' from Oscar Wilde. He had informed him that he thought wolves were so sure of themselves, like he was, and they had a mysterious air about them, also like him. He had of course accepted the name willingly. To be given something so personal and earnest from Oscar was an honour, or so Charles thought. Nobody else called him that name, nobody else knew of that name. To his friends, the few that he had, he was Charlie and to his clients he was simply called Rent boy. To them he had no real name, he was just an object. Yet Oscar Wilde had been different he had made him feel so much more than what he really was, despite being 'one of them'.  
  
But like the other people in his life that he had loved he was taken from him. He was there the day Oscar was in court, he watched as they sentenced him. No one had known he was there though and that was the way he had wanted it to stay. Through-out the trail he had confined himself to the shadows and he had left before anyone dared move from the court room. Not before Oscar had seen him though. He looked up at Robbie Ross then as he did he saw him and smiled, Charles wasn't able to smile back, he had felt too numb to. So he had slipped away quickly heading for the nearest bar, where he could sit alone and no one would dare approach him. He hadn't wanted to talk, the grief was too much.  
  
He lit a cigar that one of the boys was going to have later on but they'd forgotten and left on the windowsill. They didn't have to remember anything though. They were above all that. Charles guessed that if they wanted anything remembered then they would pay someone to do it for them.  
  
They had boasted to being Lords and heirs to estates that he couldn't even imagine existed. They'd promised him once they'd inherited everything they would pull him up from the gutter and let him stay with them. He would be their live-in whore. Of course they'd marry, have children but they'd never be rid of their thirst for something not ordinary to the 'normal' society. Whatever that was. And he would be there for that. Charles agreed, he had to, but really he was planning to travel to America or France. He had plans to open up his own whore/Renters house, as that was the only thing he was educated for and believed that was the only job he was worthy of.  
  
He had worked out that he only needed to please the two Lords, that lay on the bed, for a few more nights then he'd have enough. He wouldn't have to wait long, they seemed to have more money than brains. They always had, well ever since he had been acquainted with them.  
  
They were both 19 when they had laid eyes on him. Their fathers had raised their allowance and they wanted to blow it all. Like reckless fools. At first they were unsure what on, then they saw Charles. He didn't even need to Rent them, they came over on their own accord and dragged him away to a dingy hotel. The same hotel they had used since the start of their sessions, the same hotel they were using now. They liked it because no one asked questions, your business was your own and they would lose their respectability if they were seen by their friends with a Renter. So no upper class hotels, ever.  
  
"Fucking snobs," he muttered, throwing the rest of the cigar out the window. He was desperate for some form of relief from everything but he couldn't stand the cigar any longer.  
  
Oscar hadn't been that keen on cigars and always offered him this exotic brand of cigarette. It left an unforgettable after taste and Charles favoured it. It was addictive. If it was taken from you it left you bitter and on-edge.  
  
He stiffened as something kissed the back of his neck, like he had done to Oscar not so long ago. He hadn't heard anyone rouse but it had to be them, the person smelt of cigars and rich spices. Arms snaked around his hips and held him as the Lord continued kissing his neck.  
  
"Do you love me, Rent boy?" he asked, his voice like gravel. It was the Lord whose parents had originated from France. "As much as I love you?"  
  
Love? Charles smiled wryly. Love is an empty word, before it was used sincerely but now it is just a word tossed about like a possession. Most say it to everyone and anyone. The word love is now favourite among lovers who lust over one another, when before it was saved for marriage and family. What could he say though? Surely not the truth. How could he possibly bring himself to say 'I love you' to a wretch like this though? He had never been faced with this question before. None of the other men, whom he'd slept with, asked this of him. They were not after his heart, they simply wanted his body.  
  
"My love, the nights beauty pales in comparison to yours."  
  
Oscar had used a similar speech on him to hush him. It hadn't worked quite as effectively as Oscar would've hoped for but it would on either one of the Lords, Charles was sure.  
  
"Your tongue is as sweet as honey boy," the Lord smiled. "Come to bed now, we shall speak more later."  
  
Charles allowed himself to be led over to the bed and laid on his back as the Lord straddled him. He looked leeringly down at Charles before speaking: "We shall hear more of that honey voice as you scream out my name." Charles decided that he would not give him the pleasure of hearing him do that. He would remain silent.  
  
"My Lord, I do not know your name."  
  
The Lords top lip curled back and looked as if he would strike Charles with his hand for his pure ignorance towards him. His lips, fortunately, then twisted into a smile. If it could be called such a thing. Perhaps a smirk would be a more fitting description for it.  
  
"Edward, my name is Edward."  
  
As Edward lowered his head so their lips could touch Charles closed his eyes let his mind wander. He thought of the journey to America and arriving there. As Edwards hands roamed hungrily over his body he let his mind wander further. He thought of the place where he would set up his business; it would e a mansion with an endless amount of rooms. As another set of, cold hands joined Edwards his mind was no longer aware of reality. He thought of how he and his business would become famous and everyone would know his name. He would actually have a name and a proper place in society. He would never have to be scum again.  
  
  
  
A/N I wasn't really planning on a sequel to the first one but this idea suddenly came to me. I know it's like the first one a load of babble, thoughts, cigarettes and sex but I was thinking of adding one last one to this 'series' that actually has a plot. * Looks pleadingly at her muse and starts to shower it with compliments * * Muse glares at her and mutters something about working over time but with no pay.. * I think I'll have to get back to you with that then! ^_^  
  
And many thanks to: L, Luciana, Plato's Tragedy, Violet Raven and Kurttu. Who have all been very gracious to me (Muse take note!) and given my story positive compliments. 


End file.
